Transgressions of the Norm
by Allison Jakes
Summary: Unresolved sexual tension between a stormy, indecisive Syd, and a tempting, sexy Vaughn. The struggle to be “normal” in mid-“Rendezvous” ep. 21


1 TITLE: Transgressions of the Norm  
  
AUTHOR: *note, author uses alias, this is not her real name* Ambrose Chavez  
  
EMAIL/FEEDBACK: agent47AChavez@hotmail.com  
  
DISTRIBUTION: Feel free to archive this work as long as you notify me of its location so I can visit the site!  
  
DISCLAIMER: ALIAS is the property of ABC, Touchtone Pictures, Bad Robot Productions, and is the creation of JJ Abrams. Sadly, I have no part in it.  
  
SUMMARY: Unresolved sexual tension between a stormy, indecisive Syd, and a tempting, sexy Vaughn. The struggle to be "normal" in mid-"Rendezvous" (ep. 21)  
  
RATING: R (some sexual references/descriptions)  
  
CLASSIFICATION: UST/romantic angst  
  
AUTHOR'S SPECIAL NOTE: Okay, so this was the very FIRST Alias fanfic I attempted to write. IMO, it wasn't a terribly successful attempt, but I got the job done, and that in itself, is an accomplishment. Comparing it to SRS (my series), I would say SRS is better all around. To me, the characterization in this one is somewhat offbeat, but it suffices. Perhaps I'm just being over-critical of my own work, but you can let me know. I especially loved writing the Weiss-Vaughn wordplays, though. R/R please. (Then go check out "Storage Room Secrets"!)  
  
[*]  
  
The hum of the copy machine winded down, and as Eric Weiss pulled the hot copies from the rack, he contemplated his words to friend Michael Vaughn. Maybe he said it wrong, or in the heat of anger, but it was fine if Michael was going to risk his neck for his case, but not when it meant Eric's neck too.  
  
Sure, he liked the girl well enough. She was one hell of an agent, but it didn't give him credence to overstep his boundaries and speak the way he had to Michael. That was Michael's private life, and he had no business interfering. The problem was that his professional life didn't leave much room for a private life, especially when in connection with another double agent.  
  
However, it became his business when he had to cover for Michael and take the brunt of the beating from the senior officers and Devlin.  
  
Eric passed Michael's office and doubled back to stand in the doorway. When Michael didn't look up, Eric cleared his throat and spoke.  
  
"Michael."  
  
Vaughn glanced up briefly, then turned his attention back to his computer.  
  
"Listen," Eric strolled in, hands in his pockets, eying the surroundings of Michael's extremely masculine office. "I know I was kind of hard on you the other day about Sydney."  
  
There was no comment, but Michael stood to retrieve a book on his bookshelf. He looked up again, met Eric's eyes and grunted. Placing the book on his desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited. With Eric, there was always something more to say.  
  
"I didn't mean what I said in an interfering kind of way, but it was the truth." Confident now, Eric watched his friend's tense stance. "You're getting too emotionally attached, and it's bound to blind you one way or another."  
  
Michael's eyes revealed nothing, the crystal clear green of them like a calm Hawaiian pool in mid-summer. After a moment's silence, he sighed a little and uncrossed his arms. His let his head drop to his chest before he looked at Eric again and said, "You're right."  
  
Open-mouthed, he stared as Vaughn stepped forward, past him and towards the door.  
  
"I-I what?" Eric bumbled as he followed Michael's quick and easy strides.  
  
"You're right," Vaughn said again over his shoulder, heading for the break room, intending to pour himself a cup of coffee. "You're absolutely right. She's all wrong for me, and top it off with the fact that she's brilliant, beautiful, and beyond me."  
  
"I didn't mean it that way."  
  
"No," Vaughn turned on him finally as he reached the door of the break room. "Of course not, Eric. We're friends, you and I. She's female, she's my case, and she's a double agent. One million times more appealing as a person than any bimbo off the street, and she has wit, charisma, and ambition. Sure, she's strong willed and stubborn, but never mind that she's all I've ever wanted in a woman, Weiss. Just never mind."  
  
"I—She what?" What was it with him today, Eric thought as he stuck his arm out to prevent the door from slamming in his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Nothing," Vaughn's eyes flashed a hard, icy green as he grabbed the coffee pot, poured hot coffee into the cup, and overestimated. The cup overflowed. "Dammit."  
  
"What's your problem, man?" Eric, exasperated, grabbed the pot and put it on the burner. "You're acting like I told you she's the spawn of the devil."  
  
"I'm treating her just like you and Devlin and her father and everyone else want me to, okay? Like a case. Just another agent, just another girl." Vaughn began cleaning up the mess he created, and in the process knocked over the cup of coffee. Except, he thought, pausing to stare at the spilled liquid, she wasn't just another girl or just another agent.  
  
"Here, give me that," Eric snatched the washcloth from him. "Get a grip. I just said to watch it, and don't get too involved."  
  
Helpless to do anything else, Vaughn leaned against the wall and watched his friend clean up his mess. What were friends for anyway? He had spent a good deal of time working with Weiss, and had no reason not to trust him. Hell, maybe Sydney was getting into his head too much lately. How was he supposed to think with her around?  
  
Every time she was near him, his head went spinning, his spirit lifted, and he could relax. The tense pressure he dealt with day in and day out had taken its toll on Vaughn. Lately, he had been easily irritated and agitated. He was on a short circuit with everyone, Weiss and Sydney included. Absentmindedly, he rolled his shoulders.  
  
"I've told you a hundred times that I'm not looking for anything."  
  
"Thought you just said she was everything you wanted in a woman."  
  
"I wasn't thinking." Vaughn shrugged in dismissal.  
  
Eric didn't say anything, but he knew the outburst was the truth. There was no other way to explain why Vaughn would be that upset over one girl. Never was he that explosive when it had been about Alice. Vaguely, he remembered that Vaughn had a habit of turning the picture of them away from whoever was sitting across from him in his office. He could safely bet that Vaughn did it frequently, and probably even in the presence of Sydney.  
  
"Anyway," Michael said, looking away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I've had a short fuse lately."  
  
The familiar smirk graced Eric's face. "You know what you need?"  
  
Recognizing it, Michael faintly smiled back. "What?"  
  
"Sex."  
  
Michael, as expected, groaned in response and threw up an arm in protest. "Eric! Please."  
  
"No, really, Michael. I mean it. It's a great stress reliever and I bet with all the pressure you've been under recently, it would do you a lot of good." Finished with the counter, Eric replaced the washcloth and started to follow Vaughn out of the room, carrying a fresh cup of coffee. "Just some good old sex would make you forget all about…"  
  
Michael shot him a warning glance, and Eric changed his comment at the last second.  
  
"Uh, all about work. Hey, I bet you can get Nikki down in Human Resources to give you some loving. She can't keep her eyes off of you whenever you pass. With the agency's party coming up in less than a week to celebrate Devlin's birthday, I bet she'd be more than willing. All you have to do is drop by the party planning crew, which, my friend, she's on, and talk to her."  
  
"That's sick. I don't go for casual sex."  
  
"Like you never had it."  
  
"I never said that. I just said that I don't go for it."  
  
"Anymore," Eric completed. "Besides, you'll be at the party anyway, won't you? She'll be there, too. Just use the opportunity to talk to her, Michael. You never know, you might actually like her beauty, brains, wit, and charisma too. If anything, she'd still be more than willing to be with you."  
  
"Oh, get out. I'm not even going to Devlin's birthday bash. I need a night off, and that's my night, boss' birthday or not." Michael shook his head incredulously at his friend, took the cup from him and sipped as he contemplated Eric's suggestions. "And you once told me I had balls of steel."  
  
"What?" Eric asked mildly.  
  
Staring at his friend with amusement, he replied. "You're suggesting I have casual sex with a coworker while simultaneously discouraging the pursuit of another?"  
  
Eric shrugged. He didn't say it, but he realized why. There was a difference between casual sex and actual feelings. One was for kicks, and the other was for keeps.  
  
*****  
  
"I'm sorry," she said for the hundredth time that day.  
  
"Syd, I already told you. I was thinking about it, and I understand. This is what you have to do. I promised you I wouldn't ask any questions, so the least you can do is stop acting as if you're guilty of something." Will spoke easily now.  
  
It was hard to believe that it had merely been hours ago when he was in Paris, drugged and slow, watching Sydney in action. In the CIA safe house, he was more comfortable. It was like a small apartment, except there were men on the other side of the mirror keeping watch over him.  
  
Sydney smiled slowly. It was true, he wasn't going to ask questions, but still…  
  
"Promise me you won't."  
  
"I did. Syd, I promised." Will sat next to her. "I mean it, okay? I used to think the CIA was sort of interesting and cool. Now…"  
  
She nodded. She knew without words what he had meant.  
  
He looked soulfully at her, as he always did, and offered a wry smile. "Now, I realize that it's much more difficult and dangerous than I thought. I guess maybe I never thought about it much."  
  
Sydney tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked at him, eyes shining. Inside, her heart was bursting and sputtering sparks of hope. He didn't hate her, nor did he not mistrust her.  
  
"You're not mad?" Eyebrows raised, she anxiously awaited his reply.  
  
"No," he assured her. "Not at all. Why would I be? Do you remember when Francie and I gave you a hard time for always being sent to your seminars and business trips?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"You got upset, and you just spat out, 'If you only knew what I did everyday, you just might thank me.'"  
  
Lifting a hand to her cheek, Sydney wiped her fingers against the corner of her eye to brush aside a tear that had threatened to fall.  
  
"Well," Will took her hand in his and waited until Sydney's deep hazelnut eyes met his own sea-washed ones. "Thank you, Syd. With my life, I thank you."  
  
Her lips quirked up and she smiled at him gently, placing her hand over his and for a minute, they sat there, just like that. Understanding, compassion, and the love of friends sat comfortably in the silence between them. Sydney opened her mouth to say that she was lucky to have him when the door opened quickly.  
  
In strode Vaughn, head down, tie slightly loosened, and looking mildly disheveled. The paperwork in his hand had his full attention as he announced, "Mr. Tippin, we need to go over the terms of the Witness Protection Program…"  
  
He looked up to see Sydney facing him, mouth agape, and eyes wide at the sudden unexpected intrusion. Instantly feeling like a third wheel, his eyes were drawn to their clasped hands. "I'm sorry," he waved the papers. "I must be interrupting something. Excuse me." He began to retreat from the room.  
  
Dropping Will's hand, Sydney stood, nervously wiping her hands on her black stretch pants. "No, that's okay, really. You have things to discuss, and I should be getting home."  
  
Will rose, standing behind her, feeling possessiveness come over him. Irrational, he reasoned. This man was her case handler, not a love interest. "No, it's fine, Syd. You don't have to leave."  
  
Vaughn pursed his lips together and looked at Sydney. She lifted a hand helplessly, and turned to face Will. "No, I should go." She reached up and lightly touched his sleeve. "Francie will be worried."  
  
She turned, said goodbye, and walked past Vaughn without saying anything. He accepted the iciness of the move, and uncrossed his hands. Raising the papers, he suppressed the urge to ask about the nature of Will's intentions towards Sydney. "Shall we?" he asked gruffly, and took a seat on the couch beside Will, then spread out the paperwork.  
  
*****  
  
"Francie, would you say it's odd for someone you're usually comfortable with to suddenly act as if he's pushing you away?" Sydney asked from behind the kitchen counter. She propped her elbows on the tiled countertop and leaned forward, holding her glass of orange juice.  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, reaching for her own cup of orange juice. "Like someone you hang out with that starts being kind of weird?"  
  
"Yeah, like you feel sort of like they don't want to spend too much time being around you or talking to you. Just that they're pushing you away, you know?"  
  
"Someone you know pretty well?"  
  
Sydney sighed. "Yeah, I guess."  
  
Francie looked at her again and didn't say anything for a moment. "Yeah, that's kind of weird. Is it a guy? Is it Will?"  
  
"No." She set her cup down. "Not Will, but yeah, a guy." Sydney smiled. "Just a friend."  
  
"Hmm." Francie flipped open a magazine. Idly flipping through it, she said, "Maybe he's under a lot of stress and doesn't want to talk. Personal problems, work, that kind of thing."  
  
"Maybe," Sydney had a faraway look in her eye now. "But I'm not sure that that's it."  
  
"Maybe he likes you." Francie watched as Sydney's expression changed from far away back to the present. Sydney jerked back a little and straightened up. The swiftness of the movement had Francie raising her brow.  
  
"No, not at all. We're just friends."  
  
"Then maybe you like him," Francie drained her cup and placed it on the counter, careful to note that Sydney's tone had become defensive.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," she laughed shakily. "We're just friends."  
  
"Mm." She took her cup to the sink and rinsed it.  
  
"Francie, really. I mean it. We're friends." Sydney turned to face her friend.  
  
Abruptly Francie turned off the faucet and with one hand on her hip, she turned and faced Sydney. "Is he hot?"  
  
Sydney groaned, lifted the cup to her face, and dropped her gaze to the floor. "Yes," she admitted grudgingly. "But we sort of… work together."  
  
"At the bank?" Francie walked past Sydney into the living room.  
  
She hesitated for a brief second. "Yeah, and you know. The bank has these rules…" she let her voice trail off as she rolled her eyes and waved one hand vaguely.  
  
"Right. I understand, but don't worry." Francie smiled and hugged Sydney tightly. "If you really like him all that much, I say go for it, screw the bank and its rules. On the other hand, there'll be office gossip and the possibility of it not working out well, which would make going to work harder on both of you. But if you feel like giving it a try, you should go for it. But no worries."  
  
A moment later, she released her from the hug, and said, "Oh, you'll know what to do, Syd. You always do the right thing."  
  
When Francie walked away towards the bathroom, Sydney muttered to herself, "Doing the right thing, maybe. But not always, no."  
  
*****  
  
Devlin's party was scheduled for Saturday night, and she knew she really ought to be there. But it didn't look like she'd be back from her mission by then. Even if she was, she still had that paper to write for her English class. Sydney glanced at her watch. 5:47 pm, Thursday. The briefing with Sloane had kept her longer than she expected, and she spent longer than usual getting ready to leave the office. Sighing, she gathered her things and approached the elevator, which would bring her downstairs.  
  
London. She was flying to Memphis at midnight, and then she would catch a flight to London from there. She'd meet Dixon at LAX, and she'd be dressed and ready to go. Kate Jones was flying again, and this time, she was the assistant to a Cuban dignitary, portrayed by Dixon.  
  
The object of the mission this time was to have Dixon distract the Russian dignitary, one of Khasinau's collaborates, while Sydney broke into the vault of the hotel and retrieved another key piece of the Rambaldi artifact. Nothing spectacularly new about that, she thought, after all, it was just another B&E and steal.  
  
When she stepped into her apartment at approximately six o' clock, her phone rang. She knew before she picked it up who it would be.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
"Sorry, wrong number."  
  
Noting that Francie wasn't home yet, Sydney opted to gather her things now before she left, scribble a note for Francie, and change into her disguise after she met with Vaughn.  
  
In the self-storage building, it was nearing seven o' clock, and Vaughn heard the telltale rhythmic clicking of Sydney's heels. It was a trademark turn-on for him, and he told himself to calm down. His pulse had already quickened at the sound before he saw her round the corner, roll the gate away, step through, and roll the gate back into place.  
  
On a night like this, the Los Angeles night air was dense with dark and the periodic wail of sirens. The freeway was also cluttered and choked with evening traffic, and the news would be rolling another story of how someone was murdered. It was a dangerous night, and Vaughn wasn't sure that he was all that comfortable with meeting Sydney now.  
  
"I'm flying to London." She said matter-of-factly. Without preamble, or the usual greeting. Vaughn leaned back against a table, and crossed his arms. "I'm supposed to steal the findings of the KGB, which are supposedly stored along with the key to the Rambaldi artifact in the vault of the hotel. It's heavily guarded and the combination to it is the coordination point of the hotel's location."  
  
When Vaughn simply nodded, Sydney asked, "What's my counter mission?"  
  
When Vaughn had finished supplying her with the necessary information, he turned away from her, and asked, "How's your week been?"  
  
Behind him, Sydney raised a brow. Now he wanted to talk.  
  
"Good." She said curtly.  
  
Vaughn had his hands in his pockets again, she noticed. He didn't turn to face her, but instead, spoke into the night.  
  
"Mine has been hell."  
  
Sydney expelled a breath and took one step toward him. The absurd coldness that had been infused in his voice was gone. Instead, he sounded fatigued. "Why?"  
  
Without looking at her, he told her how Eric had accused him of getting emotionally tied to her, swearing an attraction to her. "Which," he felt he should point out, glancing at her, "is completely insane, right? I mean, we're just doing our jobs."  
  
Stung, but determined not to let him see it, Sydney tore her gaze from his lips and nodded once. "Right."  
  
"Good, I just wanted to clear that." He said somewhat awkwardly before he turned and closed his briefcase. He wanted to kick himself for it, but he was still turned on. She had a heady scent to her, and he couldn't think of anything he would rather do than make love to the woman who fascinated him so much.  
  
The thought jarred him. Casual sex meant nothing, and he was shocked to find that he wanted to have something substantial with her. Finally, he spoke again.  
  
"Good luck on your mission."  
  
Feeling her heart throb in disrupted and hurried beats, Sydney heard her breath catch and felt the tears in her eyes as she watched him take steps past her and towards the door. The muffled sound of his steps seemed to echo like clanging cymbals in her ears. Turning quickly, sensing that this was her last chance, if she had one at all, to reach out.  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
He stopped, turned to face her, and waited patiently. There was a burning desire in him to turn and walk away before he said or did something he'd regret, but he couldn't say no to her. Never would be able to, he realized, his heart plunging into a sea of emotions.  
  
Licking her lips nervously, she glanced down at her hands then back at him.  
  
"Do you really believe that?"  
  
He said nothing.  
  
"I mean," she took a step to him. One more. Another. Her hand was outstretched, graceful, yearning, and palm up. "It's not the way I feel. I want to deny it, and I've tried. God knows, Vaughn, I've tried. I don't know anymore. I'm confused, and I can't help it. But I've fought it off as long as I can. You can walk away now and let me be a fool, but don't lie to me. Please," she pleaded, her eyes big and watery, her lips in a thin, trembling line. "Don't lie to me."  
  
Staring at her hand, Vaughn felt an inexplicable tug in his heart, an unmistakable skip in its rhythm. His arms remained at his sides and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. She was so scared, so strong, and yet so vulnerable. Here she stood, offering herself to him after he had pushed her aside and regarded her as someone else entirely. She had nothing left to give, but herself.  
  
And she was offering all of that to him.  
  
Realizing what it took for her to place that much on the line, he held her gaze. He didn't have to think, but the long silence between them made the whole situation seem as if time had become unbearably still.  
  
"Please," she said in a small whisper. "Michael."  
  
That broke him. His name, singly spoken in that airy invitation, was the key to unlock what he had been harboring for so long. He didn't realize he dropped his briefcase, hadn't known he had taken her hand, couldn't believe he had reached and grasped her to him in a tight embrace.  
  
She was sobbing, she knew. She tried to still the quaking that had taken over her body in relief when he had taken her to him. Her body was pressed against him and she could breathe in his scent. Masculinity and Aqua di Gio. His cheek rest against hers and he restlessly moved his palms up and down her back to calm her. When she had finally stilled and the tears had subsided and soaked into his shirt, he kissed her forehead and drew back to look at her.  
  
"Sydney, we both play by the rules, except when we need feel the need to protect someone." He said, his voice low, tender. "Why is it…" he kissed her temple. "That I can't seem to stick to the rules with you?" Kissed the tip of her nose.  
  
"I don't know," she muttered, finding her lips against his, her words muffled and silenced as she kissed him with ardor she hadn't known she felt. Her body was pressed to his, and she felt the undeniable pressure of him against her.  
  
The kiss was tantalizing, almost drugging in its slow, nurturing way. Without warning, Michael took the kiss deeper, and it exploded.  
  
Sparks flew between them as she found her hands raking through his hair, a soft moan escaping her throat, and his hands restless on her back. When he let his hand follow her waist up to her breast, she felt herself go weak against him. She tore her lips from him, but he continued trailing a lazy, hot path down her chin and the side of her neck. Her lips parted, another gasp and moan sounded.  
  
"Michael," she whispered, husky with desire, Sydney let her fingers graze down his suit jacket and to his belt.  
  
The move snapped him back to reality. As hastily as it began, it ended just the same. Regretfully, he pulled back and impatiently ran an unsteady hand through his already mussed hair.  
  
"Jeez, Sydney." Vaughn's smile wobbled a bit. "I knew a kiss could be good, but not that good."  
  
She smiled that sweet, innocent smile of hers as she yanked her dress shirt back into place.  
  
"I'm sorry," she struggled to maintain control. She wanted to jump for joy. Vaughn wanted her. Not Sydney, the agent, but Sydney, the female. It was enthralling. Exhilarating, and just a little bit heady. "I shouldn't have kissed you."  
  
"We shouldn't have done anything." Michael agreed, picking up his briefcase again.  
  
She slanted a curious look at him as he did so. Biting her lip, she contemplated her next words and decided that she had nothing to lose by saying them.  
  
"I can't have sex with you." She said flatly. "Not yet, anyway."  
  
"Of course not," he smiled at her again. "You have a plane to catch, a mission to fulfill, and you have to come back in one piece before that can happen."  
  
She chuckled at his attempt at humor. "I'll come back in tact, don't worry. But I mean what I said. I can't have sex with you."  
  
Finally, understanding dawned. Vaughn's mouth went slack and he started at her blankly. Shock and frustration crowded his handsome features.  
  
"Why the hell not?" He sounded almost cross.  
  
"Because," Sydney smiled the pseudo-happy smile she used when she was hurting or hiding something. Looking away, she opened her mouth to continue, but he cut her off.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Of course, we shouldn't have touched each other, and it shouldn't happen again. We're both adults. We can handle sexual tension." He wasn't so sure, but he forced himself to sound confident anyway. "So I apologize. Besides, it's a little early to think of that now."  
  
"No, don't apologize. I just wanted to say it before it… got too heated, or before we… you know, things happen." Sydney shook her head to clear it. "I only meant that I can't sleep with you yet because it just seems that…"  
  
Her voice trailed off, and she refused to look at him. Being a patient man, Vaughn waited.  
  
At least, he mused, she was calling it "sleeping with" him rather than simply "having sex". To him, dynamics means something, and changing those words made it seem more likely that one day his feelings could be explained and expressed using the words "making love". He knew and accepted the difference. Progress was progress, after all.  
  
He mentally shook himself. Love? Making love or being in love, it didn't matter. It just wasn't possible. Not with Sydney. Not with this job. Emotions can be controlled, he reminded himself, and as long as they aren't completely lost, it was a good thing.  
  
"It just seems that every man I…" she looked to the right. "Care for…"  
  
Pause.  
  
She took a breath and said the rest, looking glumly into his eyes. "Every man I care for gets hurt or dies. There was Danny, Noah, and even Will and he's not even an agent. He's an innocent civilian."  
  
"Normal people, normal lives," Vaughn sighed. "Doesn't make them any less a target if they have knowledge. As for the others, Sydney, it doesn't matter. It isn't you, it's just a convoluted twist of fate. Or something."  
  
"Or something," she repeated. "Accept it, Vaughn. I don't want you hurt. I don't want to have to worry that you're going to suffer because of me. Too many people have suffered enough because of me."  
  
"Sydney," he said gently, taking a step forward.  
  
"No," she replied, taking one back. "I mean it, Vaughn. To tell you the truth, I'm absolutely terrified of you, of us. What can happen? What's the outcome? What if it doesn't work out?"  
  
"Then it doesn't, but at least we tried."  
  
"And Devlin? The agency?" she questioned defiantly.  
  
Michael lifted one shoulder and said, "Who cares? We'll deal with it if and when the time comes."  
  
"We know the answer." She pressed one hand to her heart. "Face it, Vaughn. I'm the reason for so much pain, and this? This – us – it can't work. I won't lie about it. I'm so sick and tired of having to lie to everyone I know about who I am and what I do. It's the truth, Vaughn. Deal with it."  
  
"Only if I have to, and even then, it would hurt." He raised a hand and rubbed his brow in agitation. The woman was changing her mind all of a sudden. "The way it hurts now, except more so."  
  
Pursing her lips together in a thin line, Sydney mouthed an apology and said, "Sometimes the truth hurts." With that hanging between them, she turned on one heel and left without a glance. Had she turned around, he would have seen the tears glistening as they streamed down her cheeks in her silent anguish.  
  
*****  
  
She wanted to kick herself. How could she have done that? He's not a yo- yo, she told herself. He's a grown man with feelings, and dammit, one hell of a kisser. She made up her mind to bring it up, to open the door, and when she saw what a relationship with Vaughn meant, entailed and could be like, she balked. She got scared, and did a little dance.  
  
One step forward, two steps back.  
  
Sydney wanted to growl and yank her hair, but she didn't dare. Instead, she stared serenely out the window. Cities and the thousands of people she flew over lived their normal lives. Grimly, she realized that she was not part of the vast majority. She wasn't ordinary, and she wasn't normal. She was a double agent.  
  
"Sydney," Dixon tapped her shoulder. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah," she smiled. "Fine, thanks."  
  
She closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep to discourage further questions.  
  
*****  
  
Vaughn bit into his burnt toast and winced. He didn't care. He was in such a foul mood that the horribly burned toast and eggs didn't faze him. He had slept like a hormonal teenager.  
  
Dammit, his mind screamed. I'm nearly thirty; this kind of behavior should be reserved only for teen boys!  
  
That kiss had gotten into his system much more than he would have liked to admit. Even now, if he thought about it too much, he could remember the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her in his arms. It drove him insane to realize a taste of her wasn't nearly enough. He wanted all of her.  
  
He needed all of her.  
  
Far past frustrated, and nearing bitchy status, Vaughn flung the remains of his breakfast into the garbage and stripped down to his boxers. Noting the erection he had woken up with hadn't subsided, he angrily dressed himself for work. He didn't bother to loosen his tie when he knotted it slightly tighter than comfortable. It was a preferable discomfort that complimented his mood.  
  
It pissed him off even more.  
  
When he stormed into his office, without so much as a word to anyone else, he slammed his door and sank into his seat. He sat, slumped into the big leather chair, one arm on the armrest, bent at the elbow supporting his head. He felt the beginnings of a migraine coming, and he cursed himself for wanting Sydney Bristow. Then he cursed her for being everything he's desired.  
  
The door opened and shut loudly.  
  
"What's your deal?" Eric blatantly asked.  
  
"Shut the hell up and get out." Vaughn growled, tired.  
  
"Something happened." Eric stepped forward towards him. "And ten bucks says Sydney Bristow."  
  
"If you say her name one more time, I swear, Eric, I will personally kick your ass."  
  
"It's Sydney," he said flatly.  
  
"It's none of your business!" Vaughn glared at him.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Michael. We both know you have a 'concern' for her, as you call it."  
  
"Eric, it's none of your damn business—"  
  
"—Yet you can't seem to ever stop thinking about her!"  
  
"I know! So you need to –"  
  
"—I told you that you were too emotionally attached! It's starting to—"  
  
"I'm not and it's not affecting my work!"  
  
"It is!" Eric insisted madly, waving his arms and jabbing Michael in the chest. "It's affected you here, and if it hasn't, then tell my why you're being such an ass over it!"  
  
"I don't know!" Vaughn yelled. Exasperated and angry, he threw up his arms and collapsed into the chair again. Slowly, quietly, he said it again. "I don't know."  
  
Eric pursed his lips together.  
  
"It has to stop."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"I'm working on it."  
  
*****  
  
"So your mission was a success," Vaughn said. His arms were crossed across his chest.  
  
"Yeah," Sydney said slowly. "Except Dixon broke his arm when he fought the English guard on our way out. I had to drive us to the airport."  
  
Vaughn grunted, and lifted his eyes to hers. "Listen, Sydney."  
  
Curious, Sydney met his gaze. She figured out what he was going to say before he said it and rose. "No, Vaughn, don't apologize."  
  
"I'm sorry, Sydney. Whatever came over me that night…" he couldn't go on. There wasn't really anything left for him to say. "I guess it shouldn't happen again."  
  
"No, I …" Sydney sighed.  
  
There was a long silence that followed, and neither Vaughn nor Sydney felt the courage to look at the other.  
  
"Well," Sydney stood, turning to leave.  
  
Vaughn followed her move. Without warning, the words came tumbling out.  
  
"I want you, Sydney. More than I thought I did. I want you in ways I shouldn't. I think about you in ways that are… probably, wrong. I want to do things to you that I know the agency would disapprove of. I can't help it. I just want you."  
  
Sydney froze. She closed her eyes. Maybe it wasn't exactly what she expected, but Vaughn never was. In a barely audible voice, she whispered, "What do you want from me, Vaughn?"  
  
He swallowed hard. "You, Sydney. Just you."  
  
"You understand the risks? The implications? I'm not some woman you can just screw and leave behind." She still didn't face him. Her voice trembled a little.  
  
"Sydney," he walked up behind her. He knew she wouldn't run. She wanted this as much as he did. "Don't think of it as something professional. It's just us. No one else matters, nothing else makes a difference. You once said the truth hurts. For once, let's forget who we are, what we do. Let's just be Michael and Sydney. The truth can wait. Tomorrow can wait. You and I… we can't."  
  
She stood rigid in her gray sweater and black skirt. Simple, elegant, and perfect. Her hair was arranged in loose waves around her face, and he brushed them aside and let his breath fall on her neck. She shut her eyes, blocking out the tears.  
  
She could do it. For a few precious hours, she could forget about her life and its complications. She can pretend that Michael and her were perfectly normal people. Their business would then be their own. Then again, she'd be lying to herself.  
  
"No." she shuddered as his lips came down on her neck, lightly teasing, sucking, and massaging.  
  
He sighed against her. His whisper was hot against her, "Don't deny us this pleasure, Sydney. We've both waited so long and we deserve it."  
  
"I'm so scared," she felt one tear glide down her cheek. He swiftly moved in front of her and flicked it aside. He kissed her cheek where it had been and held her close. She felt him hard against her, and knew how hard it was for him to deny himself. She knew then that it was something he had wanted for a long time. She knew the intensity of his desire, and sobbed against his chest.  
  
"Shh," he calmed her as best he could, considering. His hands smoothed over her back and he cradled her against him.  
  
"It's just so hard for me, Michael." She muttered into his shirt. "Maybe someday it can be that easy for us. Maybe. But…" she looked up at him and pulled away.  
  
Lamely, he let his arms hang at his sides. "But?"  
  
"But I can't. Not now. Not yet. I'm so sorry," she mumbled, grasped her purse and took off running. He made no move to stop her.  
  
Left in the cold, Michael pursed his lips together and wished with all his might that for once, he was just a normal person. Maybe then, he could have a "normal" relationship. A "normal" sex life. Then, it wouldn't be considered a great transgression to be with the one woman he wanted. 


End file.
